


If this were a romcom I wouldn't watch it

by Arokel



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, I haven't skated since I was a child can you tell, Unrepentant Fluff, ice skating dates like you've never seen them before, someday i will make a guy take me on an ice skating date so that i can do this, why haven't shitty and lardo talked in years? we'll never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9428795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arokel/pseuds/Arokel
Summary: Lardolivesfor ice skating dates.As a general rule, a friend crashing your date tends to make the date worse. Shitty Knight somehow manages to make it better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be Lardo humiliating a douchebag and then Shitty appeared and then eight thousand more words appeared.
> 
> Chet is dedicated to the 8 guys named Chet I saw on tinder in Massachusetts. I imagine he looks like the pure essence of _Chet_ , which I think you would achieve by layering those 8 tinder profiles on top of each other and adding like a blazer or something.

**January, 2019**

A cold breeze snakes its way through the square, stirring the packed snow along the sides of the walkways into powder. Lardo shivers and pulls her jacket tighter around herself. What’s the point of a sunny day if wind chill is going to keep the temperature in single digits anyway? Boston in January is not something to be braved lightly, and Lardo thinks longingly of the warmth of the art gallery, or better yet, her bed back in Providence, with its down comforter and its Falcs pillowcases (a gift from Bitty, to replace the Sharks pillowcases Chowder gave her as a graduation present). If the gallery didn’t open at eight she’d probably brave the commute and just stay there, where she has actual friends and not… this guy.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come here with me, Larissa,” say Chet. Lardo hates Boston. Nowhere else in the world is it possible for a grown man calling himself _Chet_ to be taken seriously.

“Any port in a storm,” she mutters. Chet frowns politely.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said I’ve always wanted to go on an ice skating date.”

It’s not even a lie. In fact, it’s a bit of an understatement. Lardo _lives_ for ice skating dates. If there’s a silver lining to sitting through Chet’s stories about his investment firm internship all through coffee and the subway and into the park itself, it’s that now she can skate while she pretends to listen. It’s a bit sad, maybe, but at this point in her life she gets more enjoyment out of showing up “pretentious trust-fund assholes,” as Shitty would call them, than she would if she actually slept with them.

“Yes, I’ve always thought it would be very romantic,” Chet says with an indulgent smile that borders on smug. Lardo can see the momentary disdain that wrinkles his brow as he surveys the rink, but when he looks back it is blankly charming once more. “I have to admit, it’s not Rockefeller.”

It’s not, but Lardo likes it. She’d made a concerted effort no to laugh when she heard _where_ exactly Chet was taking her, but she couldn’t tell him why she found a skating rink called the _Frog Pond_ so funny without explaining her Samwell days and potentially blowing the whole operation.

“This is more my size,” she says instead. “Proportionally, I mean. I’d probably get trampled at a busier rink.”

Chet laughs, a quiet chuckle that manages to sound insincere and patronizing at the same time. Lardo is reluctantly impressed. “Don’t worry. You can lean on me and I’ll find off any brutes who come our way.”

 _Brutes?_ Shitty would have a field day with this guy.

Chet wraps an arm around her waist and she doesn’t quite manage to hold back a sigh. She’s less and less interested in seeing this date through to the end with every passing second, but all she has to do is tolerate him long enough to make it onto the ice. Part of her wonders if it’s even worth the trouble, but she’d be lying if she said she had anything better to do.

It’s a sad day, she thinks again as she lets Chet lead her towards the skate rental, when she’s playing games with boring MBA-candidates just for something to do. Jack and Bitty are in Montreal for another week so she has no one to hang out with in Providence, and no one’s heard from Shitty since November so she has no one to hang out with in Boston either, which apparently means she’s feeling lonely and pathetic enough to let rich douchebags pay for her lunch.

It’s not because she misses Shitty, she tells herself. He’ll emerge from his self-imposed bar review exile eventually and they’ll go back to texting and promising meet-ups that never happen like they’ve been doing for the last two years. It’s not like she doesn’t have other friends. Other friends who live near Boston, even. Shitty just… fills a void that no one else does, and being so close to him makes that ache stronger. It’s pointless to fixate on, though, so there’s no harm in toying with guys who are nothing like him, because searching for someone to measure up is a fruitless and overall disappointing endeavor.

That in itself is a depressing thought, and she’s here to skate and mess with Chet, not mope, so she shakes it off and smiles up at him. He’s still talking and she has no idea what he just said.

“That sounds lovely,” she says.

Chet beams. “Thank you – I wasn’t sure about it at first, but I do think the pocket square really sells the look.”

Nothing important, then.

She lets Chet pick her skates and declines when he reaches for a pair of knee pads, saying they might ‘catch on her leggings,’ whatever that means. She might be pretending to be an amateur, but there are some indignities she won’t accept.

“How comfortable are you on skates?” Chet asks, cloyingly solicitous. Lardo makes noncommittal noises and looks at her feet until Chet picks up on her painfully telegraphed evasion and pats her on the arm. Lardo grits her teeth. “I’ll be there to catch you if you fall. It would be my pleasure.”

 _I’ll fucking bet_ , Lardo thinks. Rescuing a girl on an ice skating date is about as chivalrous as it gets, and Chet has proven himself the kind of guy who would _absolutely_ buy into that gendered bullshit. Lardo wishes she could sic Shitty on him and watch him crumble under Shitty’s carefully-constructed takedown of gender dynamics in skating and perceptions of female athletic ability in general. That would turn the night around.

Shitty’s not here, though, and Lardo shakes her head and tells herself to focus. She’s here in part to _forget_ Shitty, and so far she’s doing a terrible job of it. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she says brightly. “I wouldn’t want to take you down with me.”

Chet gifts her with another indulgent smile. “Don’t worry; I’m pretty steady on skates myself.”

Lardo waits until his back is turned to give their tickets to the man at the entrance before she lets the grin she’s been fighting all night show on her face.

_We’ll see about that._

Lardo wouldn’t call herself a _good skater_ in the way the people she surrounds herself with would define the term, but she did spend four years surrounded almost exclusively by those same people and when you spend enough time with men whose idea of recreational activities outside of skating is ‘skating, but not in uniform,’ you learn the basics or you wash out. So she’s no Jack Zimmerman, but she can hit a puck into a net and she’d probably go so far as to call herself _proficient._ Chet is in for a surprise.

Just as soon as she gets her footing.

It’s a little embarrassing to stumble the minute she steps onto the ice even if it does lend credibility to her lie. It’s not entirely her fault, though, which does make her feel a little better. The ice feels like it hasn’t been groomed all day and she isn’t used to skating with a toe pick, and it’s easy enough to channel that unfamiliarity into acting like a novice.

Chet steadies her and she smiles at him to cover her irritation. Stupid rental skates, stupid cheap rink, stupid oblivious investment banker –

“Let’s try a slow lap first,” Chet says, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the entrance. Lardo lets herself be pulled, taking a moment to compose herself. These next few minutes are why she didn’t give up on the whole damn night hours ago, and she is going to enjoy herself even if she has to check Chet over the wall to make it happen.

She allows herself to wobble just enough to be believable, moving her legs slowly and letting Chet do most of the work. Her ankle turns inward and she clings to him.

“Careful, there,” he says softly, and Lardo feels bad. Chet means well.

“Sory.”

“Don’t apologize. You don’t need an excuse to touch me.”

“It wasn’t an _excuse-“_

Chet _outright laughs_ at her. Sleaze. “Of course it wasn’t. I could give you some pointers, although it’s endearing to watch you try so hard.”

Lardo no longer feels bad.

They skate in silence for a few meters before Lardo fakes a stumble, catching that stupid toe pick on a groove in the ice.

She shoves into Chet, knocking him off balance, and grabs for his arm to catch herself as she backs up and forces him to turn with her. She leans forward and widens her stance to keep her balance and – hopefully - seem like she’s struggling to stay upright. She drags Chet’s arm down with her and gently hip-checks him on the way, and he goes down.

Lardo immediately straightens, the picture of shock and mortification. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Here –“ She clasps Chet’s hand to pull him up but fumbles, tilting dangerously to the side and windmilling her arms to right herself. Chet, halfway to his feet, falls back and lands hard on his tailbone.

“Oops,” says Lardo.

A group of teenagers clustered around the wall across the rink are laughing and Lardo gives them an embarrassed wave. Chet hunches his shoulders and pretends not to notice them.

She offers Chet her hand again but he waves it away, gritting his teeth in pain or annoyance or both – hard to tell.

“I’m fine on my own.”

Lardo bites down a grin. She probably wouldn’t have dropped him a third time, but here he is offering to do it for her. She loves prideful men. “Are you sure?” she says, adding a tiny bit of a waver into her voice just to really sell it. “I promise I can-“

“Don’t strain yourself.”

Chet pushes himself onto his knees, wincing as his ungloved hands touch the ice. He ignores Lardo’s outstretched hand and tries to stand on his own, which goes exactly as well as Lardo hoped it would. He pitches forward and manages to catch himself on his palms, hissing in pain. The teenagers laugh harder, joined by a loud, delighted cackle Lardo swears she recognizes. It’s probably wishful thinking, though if there were anyone she would want witness to this scene it would be –

Chet swears under his breath and gingerly moves his hands from the ice. Lardo sighs. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. “Now will you let me help?” 

Chet takes her hand without looking at her and scrambles to his feet. Lardo pulls his hand toward her. Chet yanks it back. “They’re just scraped. No blood. It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me,” Lardo says absently, letting him tug his hand free. Her attention is focused elsewhere.

A gap has opened in the group of teenagers across the rink, revealing a very fit, very _familiar_ man. Lardo sucks in a surprised breath. She’d thought maybe, but –

As if he can sense her shock, the man in question looks up and startles, nearly overbalancing on his skates.

Shitty Knight gapes at her from across a crowded rink, and Lardo thinks, _if this were a rom-com I wouldn’t watch it._

He’s wearing the same hat she remembers from school, the kind with earflaps that no one looks good in except somehow Shitty does, and his hair flops into his eyes a little and softens the angles of his face. He must be stressed beyond belief about the bar, Lardo realizes, if he hasn’t even cut his hair. He looks thinner than she remembers him looking, and she doesn’t know if it’s loss of muscle mass or if he’s traded in eating for civil procedure. It doesn’t matter, anyway. One look at him in his stupid leather jacket and his stupid fancy skates and Lardo’s heart turns over in her chest just like it used to at Samwell.

She waves, for lack of anything else to do.

Shitty frowns and jerks his head at Chet, raising questioning eyebrows. Lardo had honestly forgotten Chet was there, and now that she’s remembered he has suddenly dropped very low on the list of things she cares about right now.

Lardo rolls her eyes and makes a gagging motion, and Shitty’s face fucking _lights up_. Before Lardo can begin to process what that might mean, he’s pushed off the wall and is cutting across center ice towards her, shouting apologies behind him as children and parents scramble out of the way. He spreads his arms wide as he approaches in clear invitation for a hug. Lardo braces for impact.

Shitty barrels into her, his momentum carrying them until Lardo’s legs slam up against the half-wall surrounding the rink and they tilt dangerously over the edge. Lardo shrieks, clutching at his back as he steadies them.

“Shitty Knight, you absolute menace! Do you body-slam all your friends or am I just special?”

He pulls back to grin at her. “Did you expect anything else? Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten my ways?

There is a brief but significant pause in which they both realize it _has_ been that long, but Lardo is too giddy with the knowledge that Shitty is _here_ to let it linger.

“I expected a _hug_ , not an ambush,” she laughs, smacking his arm until he steps back so she can stand straight again. “I see your human wrecking-ball approach to skating hasn’t improved.”

“Nah, you’ve seen me as a wrecking ball, remember?”

“I’ve seen _too much_ of you as a wrecking ball, Shits.”

Chet looks between them, confused. Lardo ignores him.

“I’d reprise the costume, but it’s too cold.” Shitty pauses, considering. “And inappropriate considering the number of children present.”

Chet turns red.

Lardo punches Shitty in the arm. It’s so _easy_. She’s missed this, the chirping and the easy physicality of their relationship. It’s going to make losing it again worse, but for the moment she doesn’t care. The fact that it’s making Chet mad is just another point in its favor.

“Courteous of you,” Lardo drawls. “You could have run over a toddler, drama queen, and then what?”

“I’ll represent myself in court.”

“So when _I_ wanted you to get me off on a parking violation that was 'abusing your position' but when when you injure a child it's –“

Shitty cuts her off by putting her in a headlock. “I'm a lawyer, I don't have scruples.”

“Get off me, you big idiot.” Shitty holds her tighter and ruffles her hair. “Come _on_ , Shitty, don’t mess up my hair, I didn’t wear a hat for a reason. Get off me before I –“

Shitty lets her go and backs up immediately, hands raised and eyes concerned. “Sorry, I just assumed it would be – I should have asked –“

“Yes, you should have,” Chet says. Shitty turns.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Chet draws himself up, but it’s no use. Shitty has a good inch and still about twenty pounds of muscle on him. “I’m Larissa’s date. You are…?”

“Shitty Knight.” Shitty’s smile could almost be classified as a smirk, if Shitty were the kind of person who smirked.

“Shitty…? Never mind. Stay away from her.”

Lardo snorts. Shitty coughs into his fist for several seconds before he can look up, his lips still twitching in a poorly-hidden smile. “Buddy, if you haven’t figured out how much Lardo dislikes all that chivalrous masculine posturing bullshit, you don’t deserve her.” He bows low, extending his hand with a flourish, and grins up at Lardo from beneath his bangs. “May I have this skate?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Larissa, what –“

“Relax, Chet, it’ll just be one lap around the rink,” Lardo says. Shitty mouths _‘Chet?’_ and she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his scandalized expression. “He’s an old college friend; it’ll be nice to catch up.”

She skates away before Chet can say no.

“You are being very cruel to that poor man,” Shitty says, the moment they’re out of Chet’s earshot. She skates slowly in a halfhearted effort to keep up her ruse even though she’s nearly positive Chet’s figured her out, and Shitty matches her pace without question.

“You could tell?”

“Please, Lards, I know a person struggling on skates when I see one, and you were not struggling. It was a beautiful performance, though, don't get me wrong.”

Shitty takes her hands in his and turns to skate backwards, and Lardo lets him, basking in the feeling of having him back. It’s almost a mirror of how Chet pulled her onto the ice, but with Shitty it’s playful and trusting and everything skating with Chet was not.

“I took modern dance junior year,” Lardo says by way of explanation. She’s not sure if it’s a good one, but Shitty nods along like he gets it.

“And you complained every step of the way,” he agrees. “Does he know you’re fucking with him?”

“He might have an idea at this point.”

Shitty glances back over her shoulder and beams, presumably at Chet. “I wouldn’t put money on it.”

“He has been pretty slow to catch on,” Lardo admits.

“You do this often?”

Lardo lets go of Shitty’s hands and skates up beside him, jostling him with her shoulder. Unlike Chet – and she really has to stop comparing them because that leads nowhere good – Shitty doesn’t even falter, just nudges her side in retaliation. “Ass. Only when I have nothing better to do. This one cornered me at the gallery and he was so smug I just felt it was my duty to knock him down a peg.”

“That’s right! You have an art show!”

“Have had for a couple weeks, yeah,” Lardo shrugs. She’d tried not to be hurt that Shitty hadn’t come even though he was just across the harbor with little success, but she doesn’t know if the fact that he didn’t remember at all makes it better or worse.

“Sorry, dude. I totally forgot. I should have put it on my calendar, but…” Shitty trails off with a defeated shrug. He sounds miserable and apologetic, which makes up for a lot. She shakes her head and smiles helplessly at him.

“All is forgiven. I can’t believe you have a _calendar._ ”

“Academia claims another victim,” Shitty says mournfully. “Harvard Law has crushed generations of free spirits before me and will continue to crush generations after.”

“So you were never naked in the library? I’m a little disappointed.” She is, a little, although she supposes Harvard probably pays more attention to the stacks than Samwell does and avoiding detection might be a bit more difficult.

“My will hasn’t been _completely_ broken, what do you take me for? Of course I was. Sober, even.”

“A reformed man.”

Shitty comes to a stop, perching on the edge of the outer wall in that easy way of his and gesturing for Lardo to join him.

“Not all of us are blessed with such long legs,” she says, leaning against it instead. This position is better anyway, because it means she can look at him, refamiliarize herself with his profile.

He raises his hand like he wants to run it through his hair but settles for readjusting his hat instead, tugging it down over his ears. “I’ve missed your chirping.”

“And me?”

“No, just the chirps.” He tilts his head back to look at the sky as he speaks, and Lardo traces the curve of his neck with her gaze and curses herself for hoping. “They’re not quite the same when I have to imagine you saying them.”

“You imagine me chirping you?”

Shitty tips his head to the side to look at her, his thoughtful face at odds with the tone of his voice. Lardo’s heart beats faster, and she wills it steady. Just because he sometimes imagines her saying things doesn’t mean anything. “Whenever I do something stupid. It’s better than having my own internal monologue criticize me.”

“I’m always with you in sprit,” Lardo says. She is abruptly very uncomfortable. This isn’t where she thought that question would go, and it speaks to depths of Shitty’s mental state, and potentially his feelings on her, that probably aren’t appropriate for a public ice rink. Once upon a time she might have cornered him in his room or sat on him until he told her what was wrong, but they’re college friends catching up now and college friends don’t do that for each other.

“Tell me about this Chet,” says Shitty. “Starting with: Chet, what the _fuck_.” He pushes himself off the wall and she follows, grateful for the change in subject even if she won’t say it.

“Not much to tell. Twenty-five, soon-to-be investment banker, boring as drywall, thinks girls struggling on skates are cute. I know, I wished you could have been there when he said it. It would have been beautiful.”

Shitty nods. “A missed opportunity. But – _Chet_.”

“ _Bernard_.”

“At least I have the decency not to use it in public!”

“What do people call you in professional situations, then?” Lardo challenges. It’s still a little mind-boggling to think that the man who taught her to play flip cup has graduated from law school, and seeing him here in his element only reinforces that dissonance.

“Samuel. It’s my middle name.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked.”

Shitty pauses to re-lace a skate and Lardo risks a glance back at Chet. He’s trying very hard to pretend he isn’t watching them and doing a bad job of it, especially since they’re about halfway around the rink now and he has to keep shifting to see them over hordes of small children. She sighs. The last thing she wants to do right now is talk to Chet again, but they should head back, before Chet has an apoplexy and Shitty has to represent them both in court, or something like that.

“I like it,” she says.

Shitty straightens and takes her hand again. He catches the direction of her gaze and makes a face. “Shitty suits me better. Back to prince charming?”

“Hardly. He explained my own piece to me as an opener.”

“And you took him out?”

“Let him take me out,” Lardo corrects. “He has a lot of money and he’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t dream of letting a girl pay for a meal.”

“And he might buy one of your pieces if you butter him up enough.”

“I think that ship’s probably sailed, but yeah, that too.”

“Sorry not sorry.”

Shitty reaches for her head, but he telegraphs his movement too much and she catches it in time to move out of the way. She tugs him forwards, yanking as hard as he can. He jerks but doesn’t stumble, and grins down at her. Yeah, she’s missed this. Emotions are fraught right now, but sparring – that’s easy.

Shitty tangles his skates in hers in retaliation and grabs her around the middle, twisting her to face him. She’s never been _that_ steady on skates, and she overbalances for real, glaring up at Shitty from where he’s essentially dipped her. “Hooking! Not fair!”

“I don’t see a stick,” Shitty murmurs. His face is very, very close and Lardo has to turn her head away or she’ll do something stupid. Unfortunately, she turns just enough to make eye contact with Chet, who looks like he could melt the entire rink with the heat of his glare.

“Tripping, then. Two minutes,” she insists, tearing her eyes from Chet. Shitty is still staring at her and he’s still holding her, smiling in a way she’s only ever seen when he’s very drunk.

“You didn’t fall, did you?”

“Unsportsmanlike conduct.”

Shitty’s smile fades and he looks momentarily disappointed. Lardo can sympathize. He lifts her back onto her feet and resettles his hat on his head. “You’re reaching, Lards.”

“I’m a little hazy on the rules. You could give Bitty a run for his money, twirling people around like that.”

Shitty takes her hand again, and Lardo tries to tune out her overeager imagination. He’s probably just holding her hand to maintain the fiction that she’s a bad skater, but there’s a slight possibility that he – “Thought I’d give your dubious prince something to live up to,” he says, and oh.

Lardo is so startled that she speaks without thinking, and the first thing that comes out is “he could never compare to you.” She stops herself, horrified, and deliberately does not look at Shitty. God, if the romantic-dip-eye-contact thing wasn’t weird enough, she’s just made it worse. “I mean, he told me I didn’t need to use skating as an excuse to touch him.”

“I hope you went off on him, “ Shitty says darkly, flushing when Lardo rolls her eyes and shoots him a _did-you-just-really_ look. As he should. Shitty of all people knows she can hold her own.

“I knocked him over three times, is that good enough?”

“He knocked himself over the third time.”

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t have dropped him that time too?”

“Masculine pride redeems itself!” Shitty gasps. He draws her close with an arm around her shoulder and splays his fingers out against the sky. She ignores the heat of his arm around her and the questions clamoring in her mind and humors him, bringing her head close to his to watch the trajectory of his hand. “Years and years of deleterious effects –“

“Deleterious?”

“Shut up, big words win cases. Years and years, and then, one day, this day, one man, Chet Douchecanoe, is spared further embarrassment by a girl by falling on his own metaphorical and also kind of literal sword and embarrassing himself. A tale for the ages.”

“Chet’s a feminist, Shits. He thinks women should be allowed to wear as little clothing as they want.”

Shitty barks a startled laugh, then laughs harder when he sees her smile. “Jesus, I thought you were serious for a minute.”

“I’m always serious. I just lucked out finding such a hunky, sensitive guy who _also_ supports equal wages and Beyonce wearing –“

Shitty grabs her by the neck again and ruffles her hair, unrelenting when she smacks his thigh. “Shits! Come on, my hair, you absolute, you’re the one who’s always going on about consent –“ She’s laughing, though, and Shitty can hear it, because he doesn’t let go.

“Ah, but would _Chet_ ask for consent –“

Lardo’s fist goes wide and hits just to the right of his groin. Shitty just laughs harder and releases her, ruffling her hair again for good measure. “I’d be offended but I know you’d never hurt such a magnificent piece of equipment on purpose.”

“Put me in a headlock again and find out.”

Shitty laughs in her face and Lardo can’t help grinning back. She knows it’s a dopey grin and she doesn’t care, because it feels good to laugh with Shitty in person again and so what if she looks a little lovesick? He _dipped_ her; he has no room to talk.

She’s still breathless from laughter when they pull up in front of Chet. His arms are crossed and he looks murderous. Shitty takes one look at him and cracks up again.

“How was your skate?” Chet asks, ice dripping from his words.

“Wonderful. He’s a real knight in shining armor,” Lardo replies, smiling beatifically at him just to watch his jaw tighten further. Shitty chokes on his laughter.

“You told me you weren’t a good skater.”

Lardo flutters her eyelashes. Shitty has a small coughing fit. “I guess Bernard is just a really good partner. You know, like how even if you’re a bad ballroom dancer a talented dancer can make you look good by doing all the work.”

“Ballroom dancing, is that what you’d call that?” Chet mutters, but he’s drowned out by Shitty’s plaintive “ _Lardo!”_

Lardo shoots Shitty a look that she hopes conveys ‘ _this guy’s name is Chet, do you really think he’s going to take issue with Bernard?’_. Shitty gives an indignant huff but he does shut up, so she figures it worked well enough.

“Well, you’ve had your turn with her. You can give her back now,” says Chet.

Shitty gapes openly at him. Lardo doesn’t blame him. Some assholes don’t show their true asshole colors until they find someone they think is a kindred spirit, she supposes. “My _turn_ with her? What the fuck, dude. You can’t talk about women like they’re _property_. What the fuck did they teach you in your fancy business school?”

“What are you doing here?” Chet interrupts. Shitty shuts his mouth, jaw clenched. “Did you just come over to crash my date and insult me?”

“I came to say hi to a friend, but your smug fucking face was just too tempting –“

“What _are_ you doing here? The way you talked we didn’t expect to hear from you for another month, at least,” Lardo says in an attempt to draw Shitty’s attention before he launches into what would no doubt be a devastating lecture, complete with citations. Shitty is _dangerous_ when provoked.

Chet makes an indignant sound, but Lardo ignores him. She is so completely over this dude it’s incredible she hasn’t just kicked him in the nuts and moved on with her life.

“I’m taking a night off,” Shitty says.

“Did you give up on the bar?”

Shitty winces. “Don’t even joke about that. No, Johnson showed up at my apartment and practically dragged me here. He said I’d thank him later.”

“Johnson’s here?” Lardo asks, craning her neck to see past Shitty. “I thought he was in Maine or something with Dex.”

“I have no idea. He fucked off the minute we got here and I’ve just been standing around by myself,” Shitty complains. He directs a glare at the rink in general and tugs on the ear of his hat. “Do you know how many women have come up to me and offered to teach me to skate?”

“None?”

“I’m wounded,” Shitty says, pressing his hand to his chest and widening his eyes in a not-very-convincing display of hurt, “wounded to the very core that you think so little of my natural charms.”

Lardo can’t help the giggle that escapes her. She can sense irritation and jealousy radiating off Chet beside her, but to be honest this is the most fun she’s had with him all night so she chooses not to care. “I did notice you’ve got your flow back. It distracts from some of your lesser flaws, I guess.”

Shitty turns his mock-glare at her and she grins, unrepentant. “Nine.”

“Did you take any of them up on it?”

“One very nice lady in her early sixties. We made it about halfway around the rink,” Shitty says, with as much dignity as he can manage. Lardo snorts.

“She got tired of you that quickly?”

“She’s a Bruins fan.”

“Bad luck, dude.”

“I was crushed,” Shitty admits. “I really thought we made a connection, but some differences are just too big to work past.”

“What’s wrong with the Bruins?” Chet asks. “I’m a Bruins fan.”

Shitty shakes his head sadly. “Then you _really_ don’t deserve Lardo.”

“What does that have to do with it? And why do you keep calling her –“

“Damn, Lards, did you speak to him at all?”

Lardo shrugs. “He seemed content to talk about himself. I didn’t want to impose.”

Chet splutters in indignation and Shitty sighs, turning to face him fully. “Look, dude, I’m only taking pity on you because it’s clear you’re not going to get it on your own, but she’s not interested. She was never interested in the first place and it’s painful watching you not realize.”

“I –“

“Quit while you’re not too far behind, bro.”

“I don’t need advice from you, _Shitty_. No one is fooled by your sensitive feminist act,” Chet snaps. He looks imploringly at Lardo. “He’ll keep playing all holier-than-thou until he’s naked, and then he’s just like the rest of us.”

Shitty shrugs. “She’s already seen me naked.”

“Many times,” Lardo adds helpfully. “He’s almost always a gentleman about it, too.”

“Almost?” Shitty yelps, and Lardo immediately feels guilty. They’ve been away from each other too long and they can’t read each other quite as well as they used to, but this is not a good time for her teasing to fall flat. “Have I –“

She waves him off. “You’re an affectionate drunk when you forget to watch yourself, but it was more funny that it was traumatizing. It wasn't worth mentioning.”

She tries to communicate using only eye contact – ironic, since Shitty would say you can’t tell anything just from a person’s eyes, but she wants to make sure he knows it really is okay, and she can’t say it out loud so eye contact is what she’s stuck with. Shitty looks at her for a long moment, and Lardo breathes a sigh of relief when he finally nods and breaks the contact. His eyes are very green and very distracting.

Chet, his gaze flicking between them and their silent communication, sags in defeat. “If you were already fucking, why didn’t you just say so? Could have saved me from looking like an idiot.”

“Pretty sure Lardo made you look like an idiot already, actually,” Shitty says. He looks to Lardo for backup, but for some reason she’s struggling to form words.

It’s not like she hasn’t _thought_ about it; of course she has. You don’t harbor a crush on a guy for six and a half years without at least wondering what it would be like to have sex with him. Or you do, she supposes, but she’s not asexual. Shitty would tell her not to generalize.

And it’s not like people haven’t insinuated things like this before, to their faces even. There’s nothing really that unusual about Chet’s accusation.

But.  It’s been six and a half years and Shitty has never once snapped at whoever did the insinuating, usually throwing his arm around Lardo’s shoulders and making kissy faces at her until she threw him off instead. He’s never once given any indication that it bothers him on any level other than a purely political one – women and men can be friends without sex, why do they always congratulate him, et cetera. He’s never said anything to make it seem like there might be some truth to those comments, even if sometimes he kind of looks like he wants to.

And they just spent ten minutes holding hands and cracking sort-of-sexual jokes and he didn’t take the opportunity to say anything. And Shitty _hates_ Chet. She can see it in his carefully-controlled speech and his fake cheer; something about Chet makes Shitty _furious_. She would like it to be jealousy, but again, Shitty had his opportunity.

So if there’s any one person who would make Shitty finally crack and deny any sort of feelings between the two of them, it’s Chet. Lardo doesn’t want to hear it.

Shitty and Chet are looking at her with almost identical expressions of concern, and she wants to laugh. She’s sure they would both be horrified if she compared them to each other, which would be a fantastic reason to do it especially if –

Shitty nudges her gently. “Hey, you okay? Did I say something?”

“No,” Lardo says, finding her voice at last. “I got lost thinking about you fucking me and making Chet listen.” It’s a weak comeback and she knows it, but she expects shitty to at least do that quiet huff of amusement thing he does, if only to soothe her ego.

Instead, he sucks in a startled breath and looks away, meeting Chet’s eyes briefly and immediately looking down, face red.

Chet, too, looks uncomfortable, but he rallies into a sneer. “I don’t share.”

“It’s funny you think you’d be the one sharing,” Lardo says. Shitty laughs in a way that sounds like it’s been torn out of him, but he looks at her again, so that’s okay.

Chet bristles and opens his mouth to say something else possessive and off-base, no doubt, but Shitty pats him on the arm with one hand and flips him the bird with the other.

“I think you’ve pretty successfully destroyed any chance you might have had with her,” he says brightly. “So kindly fuck off and let her talk to someone she’s actually interested in.”

Chet takes several wobbly steps forward. “You think you can swoop in here just because you’re good-looking –“

“You think I’m good looking? Well, I’m very flattered but –“

“You’re very good looking, let’s go over here and talk about it,” Lardo says, grabbing Shitty by the arm and forcibly dragging him away from Chet, who is rapidly turning red and looks like he’s about to start an altercation on the ice. She remembers the penalties Shitty used to get for roughing and isn’t in a rush to see how that translates legally off the ice. Or on different ice, at least.

“I was just having fun,” Shitty protests, but he gamely follows her to the opposite side of the rink. “I wasn’t gonna hurt him, have some faith in me.”

Lardo rolls her eyes. “That’s what you said right before you nearly broke that Harvard d-man’s nose.”

“Yeah, but he was _Harvard_.”

“Shitty, you went to Harvard.”

“I know. I’m ashamed of myself too, Shitty says, sighing dramatically. His face turns serious. “Hey. Are you okay? You sort of shut down back there and I just want to make sure nothing's...”

“I’m fine. Surprised, that’s all,” Lardo says. She shrugs, like it was nothing, and tugs on the lock of hair hanging in his face. Shitty’s eyes flick to hers uncertainly. “Are you growing your hair out for real, or are you just too lazy to cut it?”

Shitty raises a hand to tuck his hair back under his hat. His fingers brush against hers and his quiet laugh covers the sound of her startled breath. “I dunno. Right now I’m just too busy, but I kinda told myself that if I do well enough and get a good job straight off the bat I could let it grow out again.”

“I like it this way. For what it’s worth.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m better at chirping than compliments.”

Shitty’s smile is one she’s never seen before, shy and pleased. She wants to look at it forever, but it quickly morphs into that concerned frown from before. Lardo sighs. She knew she wouldn’t be able to distract him for long. “Listen, I’m sorry. I should have asked before I said that thing about you seeing me naked.”

“When it that conversation would have been a good time to do that?”

“Then I shouldn’t have said it at all.”

“It didn’t bother me.”

“It made you uncomfortable,” Shitty insists.

Lardo almost tells him _no, it reminded me of what I can’t have_ , but she has just enough self-preservation not to do that. “What made me uncomfortable was hearing Chet say ‘fucking’. Not you.”

Shitty looks like he doesn’t believe her, but he drops the subject.

They lean against the wall in silence for a while, watching children and couples skate in circles. The rink is too small to really be meant for dates, but no one seems to care. Lardo chances a look at Shitty and finds him watching her, his eyes shadowed.

“Do you miss it? Hockey?” she asks, for something to say.

Shitty turns his gaze back to the ice. “Yeah, sometimes. It’s not a sport you can do casually. Can’t do a pick-up game with the guys every Sunday. I’ve been giving lessons to kids on the weekends to make some extra money, but it’s not the skating so much as the camaraderie, you know? Law students are fine, for the most part, but it’s not the same as living with Rans and Holster and Jack and Bitty. It's alright, though. I'm too busy to miss things, most of the time.”

Lardo hums noncommittally and they lapse into silence again. Shitty drums his fingers on the ledge. Lardo gives up on all pretense and just watches him chewing on his lip and furrowing his brows, waiting for him to speak.

“I know you wanted me to drop it, but I’m also sorry for touching you when I was drunk and naked.”

Lardo makes a face. “You make it sound like it was sexual.”

“Wasn’t it? When you said it it sounded like –“

“It was like a side-hug, Shits, it’s fine.”

It’s like all the tension suddenly drains from Shitty’s body and he slumps back against the wall, laughing weakly and scrubbing his hand over his face. “Thank god. I thought I’d blacked out and done something…” he trails off, refusing to meet her gaze in a way that speaks more to Lardo of inability than unwillingness. “Anyway, I’m sorry for hugging you, even if it’s not as bad as what I thought it was.”

“Are we actually going to catch up or are you just going to apologize to me all night?”

Shitty frowns, as if he’s trying to think of anything else he could have done wrong. “Do I have more to apologize for?”

This, Lardo thinks, is why she wastes her time on guys like Chet. Because no other man will ever be as incredible as Shitty is, and she doesn’t see a point in spending effort on someone who’s just going to fall short of her expectations. It’s pathetic, she knows, but then Shitty says things like this and she knows that even if she moves on from him he will still be far and above the best man she’ll ever meet.

“Disappearing from all social media and not talking to me for three months?” she offers, trying for teasing and failing.

Shitty looks down at his hands. “That I am sorry for. It wasn’t cool of me to go off the grid like that without telling you.”

“Shits, I’m just teasing. We all understood.”

“Yeah, but I should have told _you_.”

“We haven’t talked that much since I graduated anyway,” Lardo says, uneasy.

“I know. I’m sorry. Come on, let’s skate again,” Shitty says, before Lardo can reply. “Chet’s still watching us.”

“Fuck Chet,” Lardo mumbles, but she follows Shitty back onto the ice anyway.

“I thought that was sort of the opposite of what you were going for,” Shitty says. He reaches for her hand again and she gives it to him, trying not to read too much into it. He seems to need the reassurance.

“It was, but his possessive manly protector act was just so hot, you know? Do you think if I touched your biceps he’d come over and whisk me away to save my virtue?”

“Undoubtedly.” Shitty shakes one arm out of his jacket and holds it out in front of him. “Stroke away.”

Instead, Lardo ducks under his arm and snuggles into his side. Shitty tenses briefly before he wraps his arm around her and pulls her closer. It makes skating harder, but Shitty is warm and smells familiar and Chet is probably frothing at the mouth right now, so Lardo doesn’t care.

“This works too.”

“My arm is going to get cold,” Shitty complains. They pass Chet and Shitty waves with his free hand. Chet looks away. “What did he do to deserve all this? You normally shrug off assholes like that.”

“I was lonely.”

Shit, no, bored, she meant to say bored. Shitty is looking at her strangely, and she doesn’t blame him. Who intentionally humiliates benevolent sexists because they’re _lonely_? That’s a whole can of worms she _refuses_ to open right now.

When she doesn’t elaborate, Shitty raises disbelieving eyebrows. “You’re ruining his night because you’re lonely?”

“I’m ruining his night because he told me I’d look better gagged with his fancy sheets. I kept talking to him after he said it because I was lonely and bored,” Lardo corrects. It’s true, even if ‘lonely’ was more of a deciding factor than ‘gagged with fancy sheets’, but Shitty can get what he wants out of that.

Shitty’s hold on her tightens. “That fucker.”

“It’s fine,” Lardo says, but she doesn’t ask him to loosen his grip. Sue her.

“It’s not fine, it’s incredibly disrespectful and inappropriate and –“

“And I gave him what he deserved. I don't need a defender, Shitty.”

“You did it beautifully,” Shitty admits, mollified.

“It wouldn’t have worked if he didn’t think so highly of himself. He practically asked me to pretend to fall so I could touch him.”

Shitty shakes his head. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Lards.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Lardo starts, “you’ve got your flaws, but on the whole you’re not so –“ She cuts herself off, dismayed. They _just_ got back to something approaching normal, and she almost brought it back around to weirdly charged half-compliments.

She skates too close too close to Shitty and he knocks her leg off balance, and she stumbles, tipping forwards. It’s a stupid distraction, but it works.

Shitty hauls her upright with the arm around her shoulders, glaring reproachfully. “You weren’t even trying to be convincing.”

“How do you know I didn’t really trip?” Lardo challenges. “You’re breaking my concentration.”

“Don’t try that on me, I taught you how to skate.”

“And I used it as an excuse to touch you then too.” She means it as a joke, but it falls flat in the sudden stillness between them. Shitty brings his arm down to his side, opens his mouth, closes it, rubs his hand over his face, and turns to face her.

“Look, I…” Shitty takes a deep breath and looks away. “Okay. This might be really inappropriate and I’m sorry if it is, but I feel like we’re… are we flirting?”

Lardo freezes. _She_ is, but ‘we’ is an entirely different matter. “You know your intentions better than I do,” she hedges. She won’t be the one to say it. He can’t make her.

Shitty drags his hand over his face again and looks back at her. “Yeah, I’m flirting,” he says quietly. “And I _think_ you’re flirting back, but you came here on a date with another guy and –“

“Chet’s an ass, Shitty, you said so yourself. I took him here to humiliate him."

Shitty raises his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, I just…” he trails off with a frustrated noise and smiles ruefully. “God, you’re making me do all the work here.”

“You’re the man in this relationship,” Lardo whispers. Speaking any louder feels dangerous. “That’s your prerogative, not mine.”

Shitty laughs. “Yeah, I – yeah. This – do you – a relationship, do you want…” He turns pleading eyes on her. “Please give me something to work with.”

“Such as?”

“A declaration of feelings?”

They both pause. The words hang in the cold air for a moment, undeniable now that they’ve been spoken.

“I don’t have feelings, you know that. I sacrificed them all for art,” Lardo says. Shitty’s face falls and she scrambles to take it back, to say something less flippant and more honest, but Shitty speaks before she can think of a way to salvage it.

“Okay, I can tell you’re not going to – look, okay, cards on the table. I’m flirting with you. I like you. I would like to date you. I think you’re flirting with me, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen you – which I’m sorry for – and I can’t tell if it’s different than how you used to be or if I’m just making something out of it because I’m not used to it anymore and I’m projecting, and I’d really like it if you’d say something or tell me to fuck off because I feel like an idiot right now.”

He finishes, face flushed in embarrassment, but he holds her gaze. Lardo breaks eye contact first.

“It’s not any different than how it used to be,” she says.

Shitty backs up and nods and keeps nodding as he speaks like he can’t do anything else. “Okay, good to know, thanks for saying it nicely. Sorry for making you uncomfortable, I’ll go and maybe you can text me if you still wanna hang out later –“

Lardo catches his hand just before he skates out of range. To anyone watching, this probably _looks_ like a bad romantic comedy, with all the back-and-forth and tragic misunderstandings. “It’s not different because I was always flirting with you,” she finishes. There.

Shitty halts in his tracks, gripping her hand like a lifeline. “Okay,” he says slowly. “You’re gonna need to spell it out for me, Lards, because it kind of sounds like you’re maybe into me but you know I’d never want to pressure you into anything because I misinterpreted –“

“I like you,” Lardo says. It feels good to say it, finally, and even better to say it in response to Shitty instead of as an offering without knowing how it would be received. “I came here with Chet because I had nothing better to do but I would have ditched him in a heartbeat if you said you wanted to go anywhere else.”

“Great,” Shitty says, a brilliant smile spreading across his face. “That’s –“

He shakes his head and just smiles at her. It’s infectious, and Lardo smiles back at him, giddy.

“Lost for words? I’d expect better from a successful lawyer-to-be.”

It’s nearing five o’clock and the sky is darkening, and the lamps along the edges of the rink are just turning on. The yellow light softens the angles of Shitty’s face and turns his eyes hazel as he moves closer, coming to rest just far enough away that he can watch her face without bending down.

“Shut up,” Shitty says, but he’s still smiling and he won’t take his eyes off her. “Why did you never say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You were younger than me, and you were the only girl on the team and I felt like it wouldn’t be right to put you in that position…” he catches sight of Lardo’s expression and gives a self-deprecating chuckle.

“If I didn’t know better I would think you were saying I can’t make my own decisions,” she says.

“But the power dynamics of –“ Shitty starts.

Lardo covers his mouth with her hand, so she can feel the moment his lips curve into a smile against her palm. “Thank you for looking out for me. Come on, I can’t have this conversation with you when you’re so far above me.”

They skate to the wall and Shitty sits heavily on the ledge. He still looks blindsided, like he can’t quite believe this is happening and doesn’t know how to navigate it. In the back of her mind Lardo knows that they’re now in full view of Chet, but she refuses to let it bother her.

Shitty drags his hat off and runs his hand through his hair like she can tell he’s wanted to do all evening. “You’ve ruined me. I’ve got nothing. All that’s running through my head is ‘I like you, Chet can get fucked’.”

“That’s not quite what I –“

“That’s how I’m choosing to remember it.” He shakes his head. “I’ll never be able to concentrate on the MBE now.”

“What a tragedy, you taking a break for once,” Lardo says, crowding into his space. Shitty spreads his legs to make room and instinctively brings his hands to her hips. He’s still a little taller than her and Lardo would have preferred it the other way around, but it’s a marked improvement from the nine inches he had on her before.

“I already took a break,” Shitty protests.

“Yeah, and it got you here. You’re on a good streak, another one would probably lead to something even better.”

Shitty watches her intently, eyes warm and dark. “Is that an innuendo?”

“Your line is ‘is that a promise’,” Lardo says. “And it is.”

“An innuendo?”

“A promise.”

Shitty’s breath catches in his throat and his fingers tighten on her hips. “I’ve always thought that line was kind of skeevy.”

“Then it’s a good thing I answered it before you had to ask.”

“A good thing, yeah,” Shitty says faintly. He looks like he can’t quite figure out when the tables turned on him, but also like he’s enjoying it. That look is very promising, Lardo thinks, for the rest of this relationship going forward.

She cards her fingers through Shitty’s hair. “I really do like it this long.” Shitty just hums and closes his eyes. “You know what would make Chet _really_ mad?”

“At this point, probably everything.”

“But like, the most mad.”

“What?”

“If you kissed me.”

Shitty’s eyes fly open. He lifts a hand to her cheek and lets if fall, uncertain, and Lardo loves him for that moment of hesitation. “…can I?”

She laughs softly. “Yeah.”

“Consent is important,” Shitty mumbles, drawing her closer. She leans in to meet him, her hand in his hair sliding down to cup his neck, and fits her mouth over his.

It’s anticlimactic, after six years of waiting and wanting. Shitty’s lips are chapped from the cold and his stubble scratches her cheek, and she has to keep shifting position to keep her feet under her. But Shitty makes a tiny surprised noise into her mouth and tilts his head, drawing her lower lip between his teeth, and Lardo feels herself melt into him. Shitty’s fingers clench and unclench on her hip and his eyes are squeezed shut like if he opens them she’ll disappear, and Lardo _aches._

“There are people here,” Shitty whispers.

“Couples. Lots of other people kissing,” Lardo whispers back, and kisses him again. Shitty exhales shakily and something unpleasant swoops in Lardo’s stomach. “Do you not want to? We can –“

She starts to pull away, but Shitty holds her close, dropping his forehead to her chest. “No, god, I. I want to, just let me…” He takes several deep breaths and looks up at her, sheepish. “It’s a lot, you know?”

“We can wait.”

Shitty lifts his head and kisses back.

In the daydreams she used to have back at Samwell, Lardo always imagined that Shitty’s mustache would be an annoyance, or at least a hindrance, with regards to kissing. In the fantasies she used to have, she imagined it would be incredibly hot. It’s neither of those things. Scratchy and a bit odd, yes, will take some getting used to, but the mustache is so much a part of Shitty that she would feel weird kissing him if it wasn’t there.

Shitty parts his lips and Lardo thinks _there are children here_ but she can’t bring herself to care, goes along with it because this has been such a long time coming and she’ll take anything she can get: Shitty’s tongue in her mouth and his stupidly long eyelashes on her cheek and his fingers threading through her hair and –

“Don’t even think about it,” Lardo growls. “You’ve messed it up enough tonight already.”

“It looks fine, don’t see why you –“ Shitty mumbles. Lardo shuts him up with a sharp tug on his hair, and Shitty gasps what could almost be a whimper into her mouth.

“Holy shit, Lards,” he breathes.

Lardo pulls back, searching his face for a clue as to what that gasp meant. She knows what she _wants_ it to mean, but if she’s upset him…

“I’m sorry, I – I really shouldn’t have done that without asking, I didn’t think –“

Shitty’s eyes are blown wide and his gaze is wondering as he shakes his head. “God, don’t apologize, you have my blanket permission to do that whenever you want.” He sounds _wrecked_ , but he laughs self-consciously and runs his hand through his hair again. “Maybe not in public.”

Lardo lets out a shaky breath. She wasn’t expecting that. “Holy shit.”

“We can talk about it later, I promise.”

Lardo grins at him and he gives her a goofy smile in return. She feels a little lightheaded, and she’s not sure if it’s from the kiss itself or the speed with which it occurred, but she feels like she should slow it down a bit. Tonight has been a whirlwind and she doesn’t want to rush into anything without talking about it beyond ‘I’ve been flirting with you’.

“Alright, but only so you don’t embarrass yourself in public.”

Shitty goes an impressive shade of red. At her questioning noise, he explains, “I forgot Chet was still here.”

Lardo didn’t, but she elects not to mention that. “Can you see him?”

“Mmm… I could, if I wanted to. I’d rather stay here.”

“For me?”

“Only because I’m very happy right now.”

Shitty looks up for barely a second before he’s buried his face in her neck, practically shaking with laughter.

“What? What is it?”

“He’s – I think we surprised him and he got so mad he – he’s on the ground again.”

Lardo can’t help it; she laughs too. The situation is so ridiculous she almost can’t believe it really happened, and she’s giddy with relief and endorphins, and she couldn’t give two shits about Chet. “I almost feel bad for him, but also I don’t really care.”

“You are a bad person,” Shitty informs her.

“Guilty as charged.”

He hesitates. “You didn’t kiss me just to mess with Chet, right?”

“One hundred percent.”

She expects Shitty to laugh it off as the joke it’s obviously meant to be, but what actually happens is that Shitty’s eyebrows come together in concern and he tries to stand up and move away. Lardo rolls her eyes and brushes a kiss to his lips, thrilling when she realizes she can feel his tentative smile against her own.

“Don’t tease me,” he says. “I’m very fragile right now.”

Lardo kisses him again. “Okay.”

“Why did you kiss me, then?”

“To mess with Chet, and because you imagined me chirping you when I wasn’t there, and because you apologized for flirting with me, and to make up for six and a half years of wanting to do it and not doing it. And because you dipped me and smiled at me and challenged Chet to be a better date than you are.” Lardo punctuates her words with small kisses to Shitty’s jawline, just to make her point clearer.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of that macho savior thing.”

“You’re not my savior if you’re the one who tripped me in the first place.”

Lardo could think of a hundred cheesy metaphors for the sound of Shitty’s laugh, but this isn't a romcom so she just listens and basks in the knowledge that she made it happen.

“I kind of want to give Chet my personal thanks,” he says. “Is that too cruel?”

“Probably. Let’s do it anyway.”

Shitty pushes her away and stands. He glances at her sidelong and grins. “I’ll race you there.”

“You will not, Mr. D1 Hockey Player. You will hold my hand and skate with me, like a gentleman.”

Shitty takes her hand and tugs her close, smoothing down her hair. She hadn’t cared about her hair all that much, really, but she’s touched by the gesture. “But you said I’m _almost_ always a gentleman. I can make a few exceptions.”

“When you’re naked, I said. You’re always a gentleman when you’re wearing clothes.”

“I’ve only got one sleeve on, does that count?”

Lardo pretends to think about it. “I’ll let you get away with it, but in the future all ungentlemanly actions will have to be performed fully naked.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Shitty says, that same warmth in his eyes promising a lot more than he says aloud.

“Is that a promise?”

“I thought that was my line.”

“I’m all about equality in relationships. You and Chet aren’t the only feminists here.”

Shitty bends down to catch her lips in a kiss, and Lardo thinks, _if this were a rom-com it would end right here_. But it’s not a rom-com, so she holds Shitty’s hands and skates and watches Shitty finish what she started with Chet, and honestly? She likes this better.

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline-wise, Shitty has spent three years at Harvard Law and is now taking a bar review course in preparation for the Uniform Bar Exam in February, which is TWELVE HOURS LONG so he's understandably very stressed. When my father took the bar in the 70s he and his friends ate almost exclusively egg dishes for a month because they'd read that eggs improve your memory, so, you know. It's rough.
> 
> Lardo went to RISD for her masters and stayed in Providence after she graduated, which is STILL CANON because Ngozi hasn't said where she ends up yet. Fight me.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.arokel.tumblr.com) if you want to chat!


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